The plan was already in motion.
Gabriel felt it in the walls of Heaven—heard it in the silence between Yahweh's commands. The host had grown colder. Less curious. Less compassionate.
And Amara? She was spoken of less and less.
When she was mentioned, it was in whispers. Not reverence.
But fear.
---
It began with a gathering.
At first, only Michael and Raphael had been summoned—trusted with the early designs of the prison Yahweh intended to build. Gabriel was not invited.
Neither was Samael.
But as the structure neared completion, Yahweh extended the circle. Samael, powerful and precise, was needed for the final act. And perhaps Yahweh sought more than his strength—perhaps he wanted to test his second son's loyalty.
Gabriel still wasn't called.
Which meant he had to be there.
He didn't sneak—he didn't need to. He simply smiled at the sentries, cracked a joke, and slipped into the folds of shadow that even Heaven's brilliance couldn't quite touch.
Inside the chamber, he watched from behind a veil of illusion as Yahweh unveiled his creation.
Not a sword.
Not a city.
But a prison.
A construct forged from divine law and metaphysical chains. A sphere of pure order, designed to contain infinity itself.
Designed to hold Amara.
Michael bowed in understanding. Raphael remained silent. Samael's eyes narrowed, his face unreadable—but he gave no resistance.
Gabriel clenched his jaw.
So it was true.
They were going to trap her.
Not destroy her—Yahweh couldn't. She was his equal. But to seal her away forever? That was worse. That was a betrayal only a sibling could make.
Gabriel's wings tightened around him.
He had to act.
---
He didn't stop it outright.
He knew better.
Instead, he sabotaged details.
He shifted glyphs when no one was looking. Reversed symbols in hidden corners of the construct. He whispered doubt into the minds of recording angels and subtly altered the cadence of the sealing rites.
Small things. Invisible to most.
But enough.
One flaw in a binding this complex could unravel everything—eventually.
And Gabriel made sure there were several.
---
Samael approached him once, while Gabriel wandered through the Hall of Blue Flame where the final pieces of the seal were being engraved.
"You've been quiet," Samael said.
Gabriel smiled. "I'm thinking."
"About her?"
Gabriel shrugged. "She's our aunt, Samael. I think it's weird we're locking her in a cosmic cage instead of, you know, talking to her."
"She's not like us," Samael said.
"That doesn't make her wrong."
Samael tilted his head. "You sound like you pity her."
Gabriel's grin sharpened. "You say that like it's a sin."
---
The day came.
The archangels stood together. The Host gathered in full light. And at the center, Amara arrived—silent, vast, and unresisting.
She did not fight.
She only looked at Yahweh.
And said, "This is how you choose to end us?"
Yahweh said nothing.
Michael raised his blade. Raphael lifted his hand. Samael closed his eyes.
And Gabriel…
Gabriel whispered a single phrase into the seal—soft, buried deep, laced with entropy and uncertainty.
Then he raised his hand like the others.
The light ignited.
Shadow and brilliance collided.
And Amara was gone.
Trapped.
---
The angels sang. Yahweh turned away.
But Gabriel stayed behind.
Alone in the chamber of locks.
He walked up to the seal, laid his hand on its smooth white surface, and whispered:
"I'm sorry."
The seal pulsed, once.
She was still in there. Still listening.
And deep inside, Gabriel vowed:
This story is not finished.
Not yet.